Rest Is Only for the Fallen
by BinaryCrescent
Summary: They were gone, so abruptly, so easily, and the survivors were left to gather the shards and piece the galaxy together. Short AU fic where Anakin and Padmé both lie in the casket at the end of ROTS as Obi-Wan mourns. Anidala pairing. Cover credits to the artist.


**Title: **Rest Is Only for the Fallen

**Summary: **They were gone, so abruptly, so easily, and the survivors were left to gather the shards and piece the galaxy together. Short AU fic where Anakin and Padmé both lie in the casket at the end of ROTS as Obi-Wan mourns. Anidala pairing. Cover credits to Tayuyu on Tumblr.

**Author's Notes: **This fic is inspired by the beautiful montage in the cover art. It is a very intriguing idea to see Anakin and Padmé sharing a funeral while Obi-Wan mourns their legacy. This fic follows canon for the most part but it's an alternate ending for ROTS, where Anakin does not fall but dies killing Palpatine. (Edit: I had seen the art on Pinterest and have been unable to identify the artist until one of my great readers shared a link to the original post. Thank you so much!) Thank you to all my readers and I would appreciate it if you could leave a review!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Star Wars or Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

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_Gone. The Force has taken him, Obi-Wan._

Too late. Regret, bitter as the rationed caf Anakin used to make on their missions, lingered heavily on his mind. Perhaps he should have raced back to Coruscant faster, perhaps he should never have left Anakin's side for the mission in the first place, perhaps he should have been more attuned to the Force and learnt of the dark secret before everything shattered into pieces...

But no. They had no power over the past. They were Jedi, and they stood by their duty. Obi-Wan had obeyed the Council's orders and left for Utapau, and Anakin had fulfilled his destiny and destroyed the Sith Lord. And they bore the consequences of their actions as Jedi. Yet, if they had resolutely adhered to the Code, they would not be here now. Anakin would not have married Padmé and sired twins, and Obi-Wan would not be mourning his former Padawan as a grief-stricken brother. _A Jedi has no attachments_. But despite all they were taught, they could not let go of their emotions.

Force, he hated sunsets in Theed. In all fairness, he admitted that they were probably a beautiful sight, but the purple skies would forever be tainted with the memories of those he lost. It was the backdrop of his master's funeral all those years ago, and he had sworn that he would never enjoy dusk in the Nubian city as he watched Qui-Gon's body burn with flames crimson as the setting sun. Then, the young Tatooine boy stood by his side, reminding him of the duty that he had yet to complete. He mourned his master's passing, but he also understood that he had to focus on the task ahead of him, and that gave him purpose amidst the grief.

The young boy grew up. Sandy locks turned into a darker shade, childish features morphed into that of a handsome young man's, and the pure innocence gave way to battle-hardened maturity with an undercurrent of rage. They shared years of training together, delighted in the witty banter between them, stood back-to-back on the battlefield in the midst of enemy droids. And now, the young man who had been constantly on the move, who had been so full of life, who had been a supernova in the Force, laid still in the casket, unmoving, pale, _gone._

_He had barged into the Chancellor's office_ _with reckless abandon, expecting to find himself engulfed in another battle, only to find nothing but silence. Silence, impregnated with grief, with hopelessness, with death. And there was Senator Amidala (why was she here, he had wondered?) kneeling in the middle of the room, body heaving with dry sobs, clutching something, no someone, and oh Force... Then he was there beside her, beside him, and Anakin told him... told Obi-Wan he was his brother, and asked him to take care of his wife (of course, he should have known, and of course, she would be by her husband's side). But, Force, why did it have to take Anakin? He should be enjoying the peace he had brought, should be laughing alongside his brother, his wife, his children as the galaxy celebrated the end of the war. But the eyes of the Chosen One had fluttered shut and his head had lain limply in Padmé's lap... and just like that, he was gone, lost..._

Obi-Wan was known for keeping his promises. He had promised his master he would train the boy, and he did, even if it went against the Council's wishes. _But Anakin, oh Anakin... would you forgive me? I could not save you, and I could not save her. _Around him, the people of Naboo mourned. Dignitaries, monarchs, colleagues, subjects, all were grieving for the passing of their former queen and senator. Padmé Amidala was a notable woman in her life, and she was well-loved by those whom she served. The crowd stretched on for miles and miles, lanterns dotting the length of the bridge and the waters around them - the people were here to see their queen, their senator, to pay their respects for one last time.

_He had rushed Padmé to the nearest medical facility he could find, but it was not enough. The birth was difficult... "the prognosis is grim... records indicate an unstable pregnancy"... he had tried to console Padmé as she screamed in agony, and oh, Anakin, do you think she would have lived if you were there? Luke... she whispered; and moments later... Leia, she breathed, drained from the ordeal, her heart broken by her husband's death. And Anakin, you should have seen the twins, they were beautiful, delicate beings, bright in the Force as you had been. But Senator, Padmé! No, the twins need you, they needed their mother when they had already lost their father, I promised him I... No, she was gone, reunited with her love in the Force..._

Even in death, she was beautiful. She was ethereal as a Nubian goddess, with white lorixa flowers woven into her dark tresses, a flowing blue dress adorning her petite form. Her husband laid next to her, donning his dark Jedi robes, the very same one he had fought in during the war, and the one he had died in fighting the Sith. They looked peaceful, calm, and the beautiful work of the handmaidens disguised the hardships they had suffered before death. There were no scars, no blood, no fatal wounds - they could be merely sleeping as the entire city looked on in silence, but the sharp pang of sorrow and regret reminded him that they would never wake up from their eternal rest.

Perhaps it would be better that way. Only the living mourned. On the side where Anakin lay, hundreds of Jedi stood along the road, all enshrouded in their brown cloaks, sharing a rare moment of grief together as the Chosen One passed into the Force. He was sure that they all felt that moment - sharp, abrupt, like the sudden vanishing of a star when it was sucked into oblivion. Anakin Skywalker was bright in the Force, and the absence of his light was eerie, disturbing, leaving nothing but hollow emptiness behind. Darkness was vanquished, but light was lost with it. He could feel the waves of sadness pouring off Ahsoka next to him. She had raced back from Mandalore, only to see her master's broken body along with the rest of the Jedi. Obi-Wan knew how hard it was for the young girl. His bond with Anakin snapped with almost excruciating agony the moment he died, and he could only imagine that Ahsoka had suffered the same sudden anguish across the galaxy. But now, they could only bury their heartache as the casket passed.

On Padmé's side, the Nubian lined and took one last glimpse of their elegant lady. Padmé's family was there, weeping softly, while the handmaidens stood by the side, behind Queen Apailana. Sabé, though having left her own queen's service long ago, was there, cradling a wailing Leia while Luke laid morosely in the arms of Padmé's sister. For now, the twins would remain in the care of their maternal family. Perhaps when things had settled down, when the Jedi had dealt with the ashes of the war, when the Republic had been purged of Palpatine's dark influences, they would consider training the children as Jedi.

But they would certainly be a different kind of Jedi, Obi-Wan knew. They would not be obeying the same strict Code that had blinded the current Order from the Sith's power. They would be a new generation of Jedi, bending the rules to help the suffering people of their galaxy, as their parents had done. Obi-Wan unconsciously rubbed the two artifacts in his hands, knowing what they symbolised - a jappor snippet and a braid severed with his very own lightsaber. They symbolised, the handmaidens dressing Padmé's body had gently removed the amulet from her neck and entrusted it to him along with Anakin's Padawan braid, which they retrieved from her belongings.

One day - when they were old enough to understand, perhaps - he would give them to the twins, and tell them their parents' tale. He would tell them, longingly and filled with nostalgia, about the days when he still laughed heartily with his brother and his padawan's padawan, about the days when their father and mother stole glances at each other and thought no one knew, about the days when their father led the 501st into war fearlessly (recklessly), about the days their mother fought valiantly on the Senate's battlefield to protect the underprivileged of the galaxy. The children would be told many stories, no doubt, by him, by Ahsoka, by their family, by all who knew Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

He still had much work to do. And he envied the lovers in the open casket, hands entwined and united in their eternal rest, keeping watch in the netherworld while the survivors toiled to carry on the legacy left by the fallen. They could not fail, they could not rest. Such was the burden of the living.

**THE END**


End file.
